


Google is Your Friend

by miraculous_lovesquare



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Hand Job, Internet, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraculous_lovesquare/pseuds/miraculous_lovesquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is bored and finds some... interesting things about himself and John on the internet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Google is Your Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first smut, so please please please give me stuff I need to fix. I know it's probably bad compared to other authors, but I'm not them and I don't have their experience!  
> Also, I'm American, so any mistakes you see, please tell me and I'll fix them!

It started out with an innocent search on the internet.

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa in 221B with John's laptop (his was in his bedroom - much too far away) while John was at work. He refreshed his blog for the 42nd time. Nothing. No cases, no comments, no views, absolutely nothing. He sighed and flopped sideways on the sofa. He was going to go insane! Suddenly, he remembered something John had mentioned in the past once...

"Have you ever searched your name?"

"Hmm?" He had replied, busy with an experiment.

"Have you ever gone on the internet and searched your name?" John persisted

"I already know who I am, why would I do that?" After that, he had tuned John out in favor of the toes in front of him.

But now... He had nothing else to do, so he shrugged and opened a new tab. He typed in his name and paused. John was probably a lot more interesting to search. He could already deduce most of the sites that would pop up for his name... But John's? He wasn't quite sure, was he? Alright, maybe he could tell some of the sites for John's name as well. Sherlock sighed and started moving his cursor to the red 'X' in the corner, he could feel his boredom coming back, and he was hopeless until a thought struck him.

_What if he put both of their names in?_

His fingers flew over the keyboard as if he was afraid he might deduce before he clicked enter. Luckily, he didn't, and when he saw the results, his jaw dropped.

Of course, there was the normal things, biographies and pictures but the first result was a _story_ about them. He clicked it and he was afraid his jaw may not go back into place. There wasn't just one story, there were _over 32,000_. He clicked on the first short work and began to read. He soon realised that in this work, the relationship between himself and John was a little more than friendly. He selected another story (the tags said "smut", what the  _hell_ did that mean?) and started reading that one. It started as a _sex scene_. Contrary to Mycroft's opinions, sex did not alarm him, and, in fact, while he was reading, he discovered he was getting a familiar feeling in his belly. He justified that he hadn't masturbated in quite some time, and he decided he would do so once John got to bed, but for right now, he continued his research.

He read story after story, learning what tags he liked and choosing from there. There were some short works that were fairly innocent, only hand holding or snuggling, and there were some that they could be friends or lovers depending on how you looked at it. But the ones that Sherlock liked best had that wonderful four letter word in it. Smut. He felt a bit guilty, but he kept going through anyways, images popping up in his brain that he was sure he couldn't delete if he tried. And so he sat, not bored, reading.

***

Sherlock heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He blinked and looked around. _It's dark already?_ He thought to himself. Then it seemed to hit him that this was John, and John was not afraid to take his laptop out of his hands, so he (regretfully) closed the tab and went back to his blog. He thought of Mycroft to get rid of his, errr,  _problem_. He started replying to comments that had been left there while he was busy. John came into the room burdened with groceries.

"Hello, Sherlock!" He greeted, heading for the kitchen.

"Hmm." Sherlock acknowledged, striving for his normal 'I don't care' demeanor. Sherlock kept typing away as John put away the shopping.

"You seriously wore that sheet all day?" John asked as he sat on the sofa. Sherlock's brain unhelpfully remembered all of those works where they were on the couch, kissing and...

"I didn't see the need to change." Oh God, he was getting an erection _right next to John_. He pulled the laptop closer to him and kept typing.

"What did you do all day?"

"Cleared my mind palace." John shrugged, he saw that Sherlock wasn't in the mood to hold up a conversation, and went back into the kitchen for his tea. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief and tried to focus on what he was writing. When John came back, he had two cups of tea, one of which was put on the table by John's end of the sofa, and the other was plopped directly into Sherlock's hands in exchange for the laptop on his lap. As John grabbed the laptop ("That _is_ mine, you know."), his hand brushed Sherlock's thigh and he had to stifle a groan.

"A-actually, I think I'll change now." He said and skittered to his bedroom. When he got there he sighed. _Stupid, stupid, STUPID!_ He told himself. He _had_ to stop thinking about what he had seen on the computer. If he really tried, he could delete most of the images, but for some reason, he really didn't want to. He pushed the thoughts to the back corner of his mind palace, and quickly dressed into shirt, bottoms and dressing gown. He walked into the main room in a way he hoped was normal and sat down to drink his tea. It was cold and disgusting, so he put it aside and picked up the nearest case file. He looked at John who was looking at his own blog and most likely replying to Sherlock's scathing comments.

"Hey Sherlock?" John spoke up.

"Hmm?"

"How much do you know about our followers?"

"Not much. Why?" He said, feigning disinterest.

"Apparently, some of them write stories about us, did you know that?"

"They do?" Sherlock asked, voice wavering.

"I thought you might know something given how many have been searched through earlier, but I guess you're just antsy for no reason..." Sherlock swallowed hard and stared straight ahead, back ridged.

"Well-"

"Oh, so that was you?" John grinned, "I just wanted to know if you enjoyed them."

"What?" That was certainly unexpected.

"Did you enjoy the stories?" John asked again, looking Sherlock straight in the eye and sitting a bit closer. There was definite heat in his gaze and Sherlock couldn't help but whimper. John took that as a sign and moved in again, so close that their thighs touched.

"I asked you a question." John said, his voice getting deeper with lust. "Did. You. Enjoy. The. Stories. Where. We. Fucked."

Sherlock nodded, not trusting his voice. John's hand cupped his cheek, and his thumb brushed his cheekbone. "Good." John whispered, his mouth mere centimeters away from Sherlock's. Sherlock leaned in and closed his eyes. Suddenly, his lap was very warm. His eyelids slid up and he saw John's eyes, right in front of him, dilated so that there was only a ring of stormy blue. Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed again and then there was lips on lips. John's mouth captured his in a searing kiss, and Sherlock kissed back with fever. He whined when John pulled away and John grinned.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." Sherlock hummed and quickly put his mouth back to John's. He hugged John tight to his chest, his hands wandering up John's jumper and sliding over his (still muscled) back. John leaned back only for a moment to take off the wooly garment before he was back on Sherlock, this time licking and sucking along his neck. Sherlock tilted his head to allow easier access and wondered why John wore such thick clothing, his chest was very appealing. He looked down at an awkward position to try and see John's chest and soft abs. John stopped, pulled Sherlock's chin down, looked into his eyes and kissed him again, teasing at Sherlock's lips with his tongue. Sherlock opened up and their tongues danced, twisting and licking with each other. Then John rocked his hips and they groaned as their cocks touched with the fabric of their clothes between them. Sherlock then decided he would rather not wear his pyjama bottoms. He motioned for John to stand up and quickly slid off his trousers and took off his shirt. John stared for a moment and gave one long look up and down Sherlock's lean, pale frame. Sherlock was unsurprisingly wiry, but he was very fit for how much (or little) he ate. At a guess, it was from John's nagging and chasing criminals through all of London. Just as Sherlock was starting to get uncomfortable, John plopped back on his lap after removing his jeans and pants. They both swore when their skin touched. John giggled.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Just, you're normally so put together and now... Look at you. _Listen_ to you." He ran a hand up Sherlock's leg and he sighed and leaned back, enjoying the sensation. He realized what John was saying was right, and he started to fix his ruffled hair.

"No," John said, gently removing Sherlock's hand from his head. "I like it like that." And then he practically growled as he went back to Sherlock's lips, kissing, and sucking and generally, being very good at kissing, at least, that's what Sherlock thought. While he was doing that _wonderful_ job, Sherlock slowly guided John's hand to his curly, brunette locks. John moaned and gripped them, not enough to hurt, but enough for Sherlock to feel a spike of pleasure run through him. They kissed and kissed until they were _aching_ for release.

"Your bedroom or mine?" Sherlock asked.

"Your's is closer." John replied. He slowly got off of Sherlock's lap and stood. Together, they went to the bedroom with the Periodic Table on the wall. John collapsed on the bed. He looked up when he didn't feel the bed bounce from Sherlock laying beside him. He saw the man digging through his bedside drawer. Triumphantly, Sherlock held up a quarter used bottle of lube. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of what the missing part was used for. Sherlock climbed on the bed and paused.

"What's wrong?" John asked, concerned. "Are you uncomfortable? We don't have to do this you know."

"No, it's just," He sighed. "I haven't done this in a very very long time." Sherlock blushed and looked away. John smiled and started kissing him again, gently, softly.

"That's alright," He spoke when they parted for air. "I've only done this once with a man, we'll be awkward together, eh?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Later," John answered the unasked question. "For now..." He stroked Sherlock's prick, now slick with lube (when did he put _that_ on?). Sherlock arched his back and a few beads of precome leaked from his slit. Sherlock lubed up his hand and stroked John's cock. John swore loudly and increased his pace.

"Come on, Sherlock! I want to see your face when you come." John said, twisting his wrist and causing Sherlock to studder a bit in his movements.

"I may not done this very recently," Sherlock breathed. "But you will find that I am very quick to pick things up." Then, Sherlock found the way that John had always used to jerk off. John moaned and kissed Sherlock to shut up that beautiful mouth, because if it didn't, that smooth, rumbley baritone might make him come on the spot.

Both of them were sweating and flushed to the point were it looked like they had just ran a marathon. Sherlock pulled away from John's mouth and put his nose to John's neck and smelled the stench of sweat and desire. He started licking at John's collarbone, tasting the sweat off of the army doctor.

"Can you do it?" Sherlock's excedingly deep voice spoke. "Will you come for me?" And that's when John spurted with a shout, his sticky mess going all over both mens' bellies. Of course, Sherlock wasn't far behind, but he was less noisy. He emitted a low sigh and leaned against John, ready to sleep on the right there, content and blissed out. However, John got up and Sherlock was disappointed. That is, until he saw him come back with a wet cloth. Sherlock quickly cleaned himself up, put the dirty rag on the night stand (he'd get it in the morning), and snugged John close to him on the bed. Their breathing was slowing when Sherlock suddenly spoke up.

"You were right."

"Hmmm? 'Bout wha?" John asked sleepily.

"It's quite entertaining to search up your name on Google." Sherlock smirked and John laughed. Sherlock joined in with his deep chuckle and all was well in two two one B. At least for that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for putting up with my writing! :) Feed back would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
